The cool wind brushed against Asiel's face as he followed the dirt path toward the hills. He inhaled deeply, lungs filling with the crisp scent of grass and wildflowers.
This world has magic… that must be why technology hasn't advanced much, he thought, eyes half-closed in reflection. Back in my world, I was average at best. Studying was never my strength, and the academy's pace was too fast for me. If only I had more time—
He stopped, shaking his head. No use thinking about that now. The past is gone. I should focus on what lies ahead. This world runs on magic… and if I want to survive, I must learn it.
At last, the crest of the hill came into view. A faint smile touched his lips.
So I've finally arrived.
The climb was steady, the scent of rich soil clinging to the air. Behind him stretched the breathtaking landscape of Lagunica—rooftops glittering in the sun, a silver ribbon of river weaving across the land. For the first time since his arrival, Asiel felt as though he had stepped into a fairytale.
At the peak, he folded his legs and sat, facing the gentle river below. He straightened his back, closed his eyes, and let the world fade.
I have to feel nature…
The wind against his ears—no.
The river splashing on stone—no.
The sun warming his skin—no.
And then… silence. Thought emptied, and in the stillness a single presence rose above all others.
Yes… the earth. The firmness beneath me, the strength that holds everything… I can feel it.
His breathing slowed, his heart calmed. And then something shifted.
Even with eyes closed, Asiel saw. The slope of the hill, the steady pulse of the land—the world itself seemed to whisper to him. Drawn forward, he rose, guided by unseen vision. Boots crunching softly against the earth, he walked to the riverbank and sat again.
When he opened his eyes, a golden glow flickered in his reflection. His pupils shone like molten amber.
"Wow…" he whispered. "My eyes… they're glowing. So this is how one connects with nature."
Tiny motes of light drifted across the soil, weaving between blades of grass like living sparks.
It bends… as I imagine it.
He willed the motes into a spiral. To his shock, they obeyed, threads twisting in the air.
His heart raced—then Thalion's stern voice echoed in his mind:
"Boy, don't overdo it. Push too far and it won't just tire you—it could break you. Magic is not a toy; it is the breath of the world itself."
Asiel steadied himself, exhaling. Right. Don't push too much. Just like he said.
He pressed a palm to the soil, recalling Thalion's words. "Once you have a connection, imagine the form. Shape it with thought, guide it with will. Imagination is both the key and the limit."
Closing his eyes, he pictured a simple pebble rising. The earth quivered beneath his fingers. Slowly, a lump of soil lifted and hovered.
His eyes snapped open, glowing gold as he stared at it.
"It's… working."
The pebble wobbled and fell with a soft thunk. His vision dimmed, the motes scattering back into the earth.
Breath quick, sweat on his brow, he laughed softly.
"So this is magic. To imagine, to shape… and see it happen."
He leaned back, sky bright above him, a quiet joy swelling in his chest. For the first time, he didn't feel like an outsider. He had touched this world's heartbeat.
He stood again, brushing off his hands. The basic component of earth magic is soil… stone, sand… and sand is just tiny particles. If I gather them…
He stretched out a hand. The golden motes stirred, condensing tighter until—
Crack.
A small jagged stone formed in his palm.
"Hah… I did it."
The weight was real, solid—proof his imagination could reshape the world. But fatigue trembled in his fingers. He dropped it away.
Next, he willed a bump of earth to rise. A mound swelled from the ground, then split into three jagged spikes.
"Good," he whispered, eyes glowing brighter. "Now… bigger."
Fixing on a half-buried boulder, he clenched his fist. The ground shuddered, the rock groaning as it tore free. Inch by inch, it lifted, hovering shakily before him.
Veins strained in his temples, sweat dripping down his face. With one last push, he hurled it forward—the boulder slammed into the grass with a dull crash.
Asiel collapsed to his knees, gasping. The glow in his eyes flickered out.
"Okay… that's enough… for today."
Too weak to rise, he lay back in the grass. Exhaustion weighed heavy, but satisfaction burned brighter. For once, he wasn't just surviving—he was growing.
Sunlight warmed his face as he awoke. He yawned, blinking at the clear sky.
"…I overslept. What time is it?"
He raised a hand and conjured a small stone pillar. Studying it, he frowned.
"No shadow. Meaning the sun's right above me. So it's noon."
With a wave, he smoothed the earth and set off back to Lagunica.
The city's towering walls soon loomed before him. Their shade fell across him like a cool embrace.
"I've reached," he muttered with a grin, calling to the guard, "Hi!"
The man raised a brow. "Back already? Thought you'd stay out till sundown."
"Yeah, well," Asiel shrugged. "The streets were crowded, so I came here instead."
Through the bustling city he walked, until he reached the familiar library. Pushing open the heavy doors, he called, "Sir Thalion, I'm back!"
The scent of parchment filled his lungs. He hurried to the old mage's desk.
"Sir Thalion—I did it. I got the connection."
Thalion looked up, silver brows rising. "Really? Did you try anything?"
"Yes! I lifted a pebble… and even threw it away."
The old man chuckled knowingly. "Ah, the classic first step. And how did it feel?"
Asiel's eyes gleamed. "Amazing. I can't even put it into words."
"Good. Very good."
"Would you like to see it?" Asiel asked suddenly.
"See it? And how do you plan to—"
Asiel's eyes flared bright gold.
Thalion froze, quill slipping from his fingers. His eyes widened.
"H-How did you do that?! How did you gain a magic trait?"
"A… magic trait?" Asiel tilted his head. "What's that?"
"Turn them back," Thalion ordered sharply.
Asiel focused, and the glow faded into brown once more.
The mage leaned back, drumming his fingers on the desk. A deep breath escaped him.
"…I don't know how you managed this. But I can explain."
"A magic trait," he said slowly, "is a rare physical mark… a visible sign of your bond with nature. It is proof the element itself acknowledges you. In all history, few have ever awakened such a trait."
"How few?" Asiel pressed.
"Very few," Thalion replied gravely. "In this entire generation, there are barely any known trait-bearers. The most famous is one whose name children whisper in awe—"
His tone darkened.
"Azrath Valenhardt. The Frozen Monarch."
"The Frozen… Monarch?"
"The second son of House Valenhardt. He awakened his trait at twelve. By twenty, he had already carved his name into history. Cold, calculating, ruthless—he sees the world as a chessboard. To his people, he is a god of winter. Entire armies froze under his command."
"So… the strongest ice user in history?"
"Unbeatable," Thalion said firmly. "A tactician who never lost. If your trait is real, boy, then your future may be far more complicated than you imagine."
"Complicated? Why? Isn't this… a good thing?"
Thalion leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Because trait-bearers are always watched. Admired… or feared. Either way, your life will never belong to just yourself. And if the wrong people learn of this—"
His eyes hardened.
"—they will come for you."
Asiel's chest tightened. "What do you mean—?"
But before Thalion could answer, the library door creaked open.
A tall figure in black entered, face hidden by a hood. The air grew colder with each echoing step.
Thalion froze.
"…It's too soon."
End of Chapter 6.